


chart up your insides and put them on display

by dragdragdragon



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dogs, Angst, Depression, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Len finds a stray dog, Len-centric, Lisa is a concerned sister, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, Snart Siblings feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/pseuds/dragdragdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She found me,” Len says, guilt tumbling down to his churning stomach.  He focuses on the dog, pouring scoops of water to rinse the suds out of her fur. He tries not to be weighed down by the fact he caused Lisa a sleepless night, because he was selfish, because he had felt his skin go tight at the thought of other people’s presence last night.</p><p>“Her name is Swan,” Len continues, letting himself remember the time Lisa was seven and had a hard time pronouncing Michelle Kwan’s last name.</p><p>“Hello, Swanie. Aren’t you a cutie?” Lisa cooes as Swan calms down.</p><p>Len drains the water and wraps Swan up in a fluffy blue towel, nose barely poking out.</p><p>or </p><p>Len finds a dog and sees a survivor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chart up your insides and put them on display

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writerdragonfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/gifts).



> [Kyla](https://writerdragonfly.tumblr.com/) is a beautiful human being and deserves the best. Thus, here you are, maybe not the best, but it's for you and it is as imperfect as I am.
> 
> This fic is very important and special to me. I'm dedicating this to Kyla, but it's also to my dog who was the only reason I was able to even leave the house, let alone get out of bed for the longest time.
> 
> This fic wouldn't even be posted if it wasn't for my darling, [Kelsey](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com/), who helped me realize I was silly to think my version of events was wrong, and is the absolute best. 
> 
> Depression is a difficult thing and no two experiences are a like, but I hope this feels honest.
> 
> //[The Execution of All Things - Rilo Kiley](https://youtu.be/ldier3cvquU)//

The air, thick and bitter to taste, _hurts_. It becomes tangled against Len’s throat as it constricts and weighs against his chest. Every minute passes, he can’t move, can hardly feel his limbs sink further and further into the bed.

  

Tomorrow will be better, he hopes. But hope is a nonexistent thing that only exists to push him back into the void. There are days where he is strong enough to lift his weary body out of bed and drink coffee with Lisa. There are days he can plan in a frenzy and execute perfectly timed heists.

 

For a while, those days were of an abundance. Len was motivated by the challenge of Barry Allen, of the Scarlet Speedster. Today, the air suffocates. He lays on the bed frozen; his mind is a minefield of every wrong attempt, every error, and every unforeseen consequence.

 

Len watches the darkness fade, drawn back from the sun, watches the light filter through the blinds. He follows a beam of light as it crawls up the wall at a snail’s pace. His eyes are drained, dry as a desert from the sleepless night.

 

The door creeks open like nails to a chalkboard. Lisa’s concerned expression pokes in.

  

"No,“ he says before Lisa can say a word. "I can’t."

  

"I just want to have some breakfast with you,” Lisa gently goads.

  

"Not today. Tomorrow,“ he replies, tired. He turns to his side and hides his worn face from Lisa.

 

“Please, Lenny,” Lisa whispers, heartbroken.

  

“Go. Don’t come back,” Len says, struggling to speak. Even his words felt heavy, as if his lungs were straining to work.

 

“I can’t. Someone needs to check on you,” Lisa insists. Her voice breaks at the end. Len knows he’s hurting her, by pushing her away, but he can’t have her here. It would be too much like admitting to Lisa that he may not be okay.

  

“Not you, sis. I don’t like you seeing me like this.” Len drawls; words slurring from the sleepless night.

 

“There’s no one else,” Lisa says, drained.

 

Len sighs, unable to respond, knowing his voice would crack. 

 

Silence envelops the room and thickens, causing Len to shiver, anxious.

 

“Let me at least get you a cup of tea before I go,” Lisa says.

 

Len waves his hand up slightly as if to say yes. Words becomes stuck in his throat as guilt weighs heavily against his heart.

 

“Okay,” Lisa says.

 

Len wants to tell her how much she means to him, but he can’t.

 

What seemed like hours later, Lisa comes back, placing the cup on the nightstand, and lets her hand drop to his shoulders.

 

“See you later, jerkface,” Lisa says, voice dipped in sarcasm, but concern still filtering through. She leaves.

 

(Lisa, because she never listens, comes back six hours later with food: chicken noodle from Len’s favorite deli. Len’s doesn’t have the heart to tell her no.

  

He ends up eating the whole thing anyways.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Len had just executed the perfect heist with Lisa and Mick. It was perfect; it was timed to the exact second, each person on point, and every guard as predictable as ever, despite the complexity of the vault and the unpredictable nature of his two partners.

 

There hadn’t been any surprises like his father coming back from the dead - _Len had nightmares after Lewis’s death, sweat soaked sheets and twisted blankets, Lisa’s blood on his hand, helpless_ \- or the Flash foiling the crime. So, he should feel elated. He should be riding a high and knocking back beers with Lisa and Mick at his favorite haunt.

 

Instead, Len’s alone. His skin is crawling at the thought of human contact, of Lisa’s scowling, but concerned face, and of Mick’s insistence that burning something would solve everything.

 

Len left his gear and his phone at the safehouse the three of them shared to hide in a place no one knew about. Not even Lisa. It was a literal hole in the wall with only a mattress in the corner as furniture.

 

Len carefully sits down on the worn, stained mattress, and stares at the food he brought with him. His throat constricts at the thought of chewing, but he needs substance to keep his body going for another day. Not that it matter. Existing is difficult… But Lisa had an annoying ability of knowing every time Len neglected to eat.

 

Len unwraps his sandwich and stares at the unappetizing paleness of the ham and the bright yellow of American cheese squished between two stale pieces of bread. He sighs and takes a small bite.

 

It tastes like sand in his mouth. Len can barely choke down a shallow; the bread sticks to the back of his throat. He stares down the food in hopes that he can defeat it. He’s about to force himself to take a bite when he hears scuffling from the other side of the wall. He places the sandwich down and starts to grab the gun he has strapped to his ankle.

 

The scuffling turns into a quiet pitter patter of feet, too soft and frequent to be a human being. Len allows his shoulders to relax and smooths down his pant leg.

 

The ramshackle door slowly creaks open and a collarless dog with matted black fur poked it’s head in, sniffing the air. The dog looks starved, skin sticking to the ribs, as it ventures further into Len’s hideout.

 

Len stays still, frozen, afraid of scaring the poor thing off. The dog creeps closer and closer to the food while cautiously staring at Len with a terrified expression.

 

After a few minutes of watching the dog dance around the edges of the room, Len grabs the sandwich and breaks off a small chunk to place on the ground.

 

Len keeps his hands open as he balances the food on his knee. The dog’s hunger wins out and it snaps up the piece of food and swallows. Len tears another piece off and places it near his foot. Again and again until the dog starts to eat from Len’s hands.

 

As Len watches this tiny creature, with dirty soot black fur and a caramel mask, tear apart the bland sandwich, his heart aches at what it must have gone through. He can’t help, but think how the dog feels like a kindred spirit. A survivor just like Len.

 

When the food disappears, Len expects the dog to leave and return to where it had come from. Instead, it curls up in a ball on the mattress; its head presses against Len’s side. He can feel the creature tremble in its sleep and it pings something in his heart. He stays there, still and upright, until the dog finally shifts.

 

Len shuffles to lay down on the mattress. The dog tucks underneath his chin, wheezing as it snores. Len let darkness overtake his consciousness and dozes.

 

When Len wakes up shivering, the dog’s still curled by his chest. Its eyes open, staring at Len through its mangled puffy fur. He stretches to elevate the twinge in his back from the uncomfortable mattress.

 

It’s light out, dim, but there, filtering through the half opened door. He must of slept the night. _Lisa’s gonna fucking kill him._

 

Len knows Lisa is going to pounce and tear him a new one, once he resurfaces. The guilt from making her worry had almost been enough to keep Len from escaping, but _it is_ enough to keep him from staying away too long. He gets up and gathers the packaging of his food and other belongings.

 

The dog slowly gets to its feet, slightly swaying. It shakes off its ruffled fur and takes a tentative step forward, with large sad eyes.

 

Len freezes, uncertain if he could find it in himself to leave this forgotten dog in this dilapidated building, in an area so few people venture to. He almost laughs out loud at himself. He had already made up his mind the minute he broke up pieces of food for the dog.

 

Len whistles and the dog trots to his side, following him as he pushes open the door and leaves without looking back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lisa finds Len, wet sleeves scrunched to his elbow, in the middle of giving the dog a bath in the kitchen sink. A bag of dog food leans against the cabinets next to two dog dishes, one filled with water and the other dog food.

  

As soon as the door slams, the dog - a girl Len had just learned - stops whimpering to let out a bark, loud and high pitched.

 

“What the hell, Lenny?” Lisa nearly shouts.

 

“It’s okay, darling,” Len whispers to the dog, petting the soapy fur, before turning his head to look over his shoulder.

 

“Lisa,” he greets.

 

“Where have you been? I tried your cell and I’ve looked everywhere for you. I was scared shitless that you’ve been taken. I even called the _Flash_. And is that a dog?!?” Lisa’s voice gets louder and louder as the dog, terrified by another presence, by the intensity of Lisa’s voice, howls panicked ear-piercing barks.

 

“Lise, I understand your panic. But please use softer tones in front of the dog. Yes, a dog,” Len says quietly; his hold on the dog firm as she continues to quiver.

 

Lisa sighs and slowly approaches the dog, hands in a placating gesture. “What’s the dog’s name? How did you find him?”

 

“She found me,” Len says, guilt tumbling down to his churning stomach.  He focuses on the dog, pouring scoops of water to rinse the suds out of her fur. He tries not to be weighed down by the fact he caused Lisa a sleepless night, because he was selfish, because he had felt his skin go tight at the thought of other people’s presence last night.

 

“Her name is Swan,” Len continues, letting himself remember the time Lisa was seven and had a hard time pronouncing Michelle Kwan’s last name.

 

“Hello, Swanie. Aren’t you a cutie?” Lisa cooes as Swan calms down.

 

Len drains the water and wraps Swan up in a fluffy blue towel, nose barely poking out.

 

Swan’s fur turns out to be a softer charcoal grey, lighter almost white poofs float up on the top of her head. She gives Len’s face kisses as he clips in her tiny navy harness on the kitchen top counter. His heart melts at her kindness, and at her ability to shift gears so quickly. Len moves away for a second, bending down to grab a treat from a cabinet below.

 

“Oh shit,” Lisa curses quietly as she stares at her phone. “I forgot to-”

 

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead, Swan yips as the a red streak flashes in causing a burst of air to blow. Barry skids to a stop, full Flash uniform, and almost trips over his feet at the sight of the dog.

 

“Lisa! I tried everywhere, every nook and cranny and I can’t find him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Barry says, face distressed, looking back and forth at Lisa and Swan.

 

“Hello, Scarlet,” Len says with a smirk as he stands back up.

 

“Lenny! Oh god, I mean Snart! Are you okay?” Barry asks as he takes a step forward.

 

Len grabs Swan and places her gently down. He opens his palm to reveal a treat that Swan immediately snatches.

 

“Peachy,” Len says, uncomfortable with the naked open concern on Barry’s covered face.

 

“I-I-I thought you were-” Barry starts to say, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Sorry, Flash. I just found Lenny. He was busy, not _kidnapped_ ,” Lisa says, giving Len a death glare.

 

Len grimaces and flicks his hand at the scene in front of him. “Right. Sorry to cause all of this commotion. I was taking a day off.”

 

“Flash, would you be a doll and take Swan out on a walk? I have to yell at my knucklehead brother, and the dog doesn’t like loud noises,” Lisa asks, hands on her hips, fuming.

 

“Um, yeah. Just a tiny problem though. I’m in Flash gear and wouldn't that bring attention to your apartment?” Barry says, nervous, continuously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

 

“I'm sure Lenny will lend you some clothes. You can even borrow a baseball cap to hide your cute face,” Lisa says; her voice dipped in fake sweetness.

 

“Go ahead, Scarlet,” Len says, resigned, as he waves his hand at the general direction of his bedroom.

 

When Barry comes back with his cap tucked downwards to leave his face hidden, he’s swimming in Len’s favorite dark grey sweater. His normally tight jeans are baggy in Barry’s frame and shows off a sliver of skin right above the sneakers. Len’s heart twists at the sight and he swallows hard, trying to push down his yearning.

 

Barry kneels down and starts to softly call for Swan. “Here, pup pup, come here.”

 

Swan sniffs the air, and slowly tilts her head up. She pads over to Barry, staying a few inches away as he keeps his hands open. After a thorough investigation of the surrounding area, she finally approaches him, pushing her nose against his hand. Barry, with complete wonder and joy on his face, carefully runs his fingers through Swan’s fur.

 

Her tail starts to thump against the floor. Len relaxes his tense shoulders at the sight of them bonding, feeling better about Barry leaving with Swan without him.

 

Len goes to clip the leash on Swan. Once doing so, he has the audacity to look up from the task to fall head first into Barry’s stunning green hazel eyes, gold bursts spilling over the viridescent orbs.

 

“Are you two done eye fucking?” Lisa asks, bluntly, bursting the moment.

 

Barry sputters. “What? No! Uh, right, so... I’ll be back with Swan!”  He turns his heel, but Len still catches a glimpse of Barry’s flushed face.

 

Swan tries to dig her paws into the hardwood floor to keep from leaving. The smooth surface causes her to slide instead of stopping, but as soon as Len takes the lead, she follows. When he goes to close the door behind Barry and Swan, she gives Len the most heartbreaking eyes and it almost kills him to follow through. He does it anyways.

 

“Lenny, you can’t do this anymore,” Lisa says, forlorn. Her back is facing him; her shoulders slightly hunched upwards.

 

“I’m-”

 

“No! You will let me talk,” Lisa snaps as she turns sharply, hair whipping into her face. Her mouth is set to a thin line, and has an almost cold expression if her eyes aren’t rimmed with tears.

 

“I love you. Mick does too in his own way. We care. Even the Flash cares. You can’t just disappear without telling someone. Not anymore. I was worried. I was _sick_ with worry. Do you remember the last time you disappeared?” she continues, shaking.

 

“Yes,” Len says, roughly.

 

“Dad took you, and I didn’t know what to do. So when you didn’t answer your phone yesterday, I gave you some time. But when you still didn’t answer and it was two in the fucking morning, I freaked out. What if some asshole mobster decided to exact revenge on you? What if you fucking get hit by a car? I can’t lose you. You can’t just do this to me,” Lisa says with heaving chest, voice ragged and face contorted in an uncontrollable anguish.

“Lis-”

 

“No! I’m not done! The time before Dad? You fucking almost starved yourself to death, because you forgot! _To eat._ And before that? You looked sick and pale, and you wouldn’t say a word, but _I know._ I know about those pills.” Lisa’s voice goes from loud to a distressed whisper.

 

 _FUCK!_  Lisa’s words pinned Len down. He shakes, hands trembling, unable to shuffle forward to console her. She’s right. He’s been selfish and wrong. He can feel the guilt tear at his soul, burning through the base of his heart.

 

Lisa breathes raggedly, before reaching and grasping Len’s shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. “Lenny,” she says, quietly and unsure.

 

“Lisa, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” Len insists; guilt weighing and weighing him down, like a boulder pressing against his shoulders, pushing him into the ground.

 

“I’m angry at you, yes, but really, I’m angry at myself, because I didn’t tell you this sooner. I know sometimes you can’t handle people. I know sometimes you just need some time to yourself and reset. But you need to tell me, so I can back off. And you need to tell me when you need me. Please, don’t leave me in the dark. You’re important,” Lisa says, pulling him into a hug.

 

They stand there just like that for a while; Len blanketed by Lisa’s naked affection and concern.

 

He can do better. He has to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Len doesn’t do better.

 

He lays in bed, blanket to his nose, dog tucked underneath his arm, and he can’t will himself to get up. He _can’t_.

 

The warmth of Swan and her wheezy snores lulls him back to sleep.

  

When Len pop opens his eyes again, drained, the clock shouts at him in red, angry digital lettering, ‘1:00 pm.’

 

Len closes his weary eyes and breathes deeply. He feels glued to the bed, but his bladder is screaming at him. He carefully shuffles off his mattress, and tries not to wake up Swan. He feels guilty, because he knows she’ll need to go for a walk, but he dreads it, dreads the sun on his face, and the people on the street staring at him.

 

When Len comes back, Swan is on her feet and on top of the covers. She looks at him with pleading eyes and jumps off the bed to his feet.

 

“Hi you,” Len whispers, voice hoarse from sleep.

 

As an answer, Swan dances at his feet, before running out of the bedroom. He can hear the pitter patter of her paws chasing an invisible assailant, before racing back into the room. She sits at his feet, tongue out of her mouth, tail thumping against the floor, ready for the outside.

 

_If only Len was ready._

 

He’s likely never going to be, so he goes in search of shoes as Swan happily trails behind, resigned to his fate.

 

When Len comes back inside, he slings off his outside clothing and dives into bed. Swan follows, jumping on top of his back, curled into a ball. Len doesn’t have the heart to move her off his back. They slumber.

 

It goes on for days. Swan is the only reason Len gets up in the morning, and the only reason he leaves the apartment.

 

 

* * *

 

  

There's a loud pounding at the door, causing a ruckus that wakes up Swan. She bolts out of bed; her high pitched barking jolts Len through the daze of dreamless sleep. He tumbles out of bed on high alert, grabbing his Cold gun and strapping it to the side.

 

Len grabs Swan, as she wiggles against his hold, her excited, but terrified yips slowing down. He opens the door, ready to pull out his gun. He finds Mick mid-knock on the other side, hand dangling for barely second, before dropping his arm down.

 

Mick shoulders himself inside, ignoring Swan’s loud protests. Len sighs, closing the door and letting his puppy back on the ground. Swan scrambles to run in circles around Mick, growling and barking as the normally intimidating man drops down to his knees, hands open.

 

Swan accepts Mick’s gentle administrations, but she can't help continue barking every 30 seconds at such a strange man in her home. When Mick pets just the right spot, right below her ear, her hind leg starts to twitch follow by uncontrollable scratching at the air.

 

Mick’s face turns uncharacteristically soft. “When did ya get this little one?”

 

“A month ago,” Len said, shoulders relaxing slightly as Swan gets more and more comfortable with Mick.

 

“Our last job was a month ago,” Mick growled. His irritation was belied by the sight of Swan rolling over to show her belly and Mick’s thick fingers tickling her ribs.

 

Len looks away, guilt sitting right below his ribs. He doesn’t say anything, but instead, opens his cabinets to pour food into Swan’s bowl. He can feel the heat of Mick’s gaze on his back as he starts the process of making coffee. The loud grinding blocking his thoughts from going too astray, and from the other man saying anything else.

 

“I’m getting restless, Snart. You know how I get when I feel restless,” Mick says as the grinding machine dies down. Len could hear the crack of Mick’s knuckles as he dumps the coffee grounds into the french press.

 

“I don’t have anything planned, Mick. Go beat up some assholes at Saints,” Len says, drawing out his s’s.

 

“Boring. Gimme something to do. I heard there’s priceless pieces of art coming to Central City Art Museum. How do you feel about Van Gogh’s bedrooms?” Mick sides up next to Len with a crazed look in his eyes.

 

“Like losing an ear over them,” Len says, with a twitch of a smile ghosting his face. The gears in his brain starts turning and he can feel like slivers of a plan latch on. 

 

“Tell Lisa and I’ll acquire the blueprints we need. Meet at the warehouse district in say 5 hours?” Len continues, spooning honey into his mug. 

 

“You’re on,” Mick says. He bends down to give Swan one last scratch behind the ear before exiting.

  

The vice grip of worry and guilt on Len’s heart lessens just a bit at the thought of a challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dragdragdragon.tumblr.com/).


End file.
